


Fragile skin

by ShyAudacity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Caring Gwash, Established Relationship, Fever Dreams, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, John Takes Care of Alexander, M/M, Or at least he tries to, Sick Character, Sickfic, What Was I Thinking?, Worried Gwash, Worried John, idk - Freeform, mentions of sodomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m just going for a short walk; I’ll be back before long.” He told his French friend. The cool November air felt good on his skin, it made him feel slightly less foggy. Alexander walked until he was almost at the river. It was then that his vision had started to double and blur, so he figured it be best that he walked back to camp.</p>
<p>He was almost a mile away when his eyes rolled back into his head and the ground rushed up to meet him. </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Alexander is sick and doesn't tell anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile skin

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm still accepting prompts, just saying.) This work is unbeta'd and I own nothing.

“Alex, are you feeling okay son?” Washington asked him.

He felt awful. He was both hot and cold at the same time, and his whole body was feeling clammy and he ached all over. He desperately wanted to go back to his tent and get some more sleep, but he knew that he had a reputation to maintain with Washington. He couldn’t let anyone know that he was sick.

“Yes sir, I’m just fine.” He lied. “Please don’t call me son.”

Washington looked at him warily, then walked away leaving Alexander to his writing. Himself and Lafayette had been working on a letter asking for money, guns and half a chance. If they were lucky, France would pull through for them and help out. First, Alexander’s hands had to stop shaking so he could finish writing the letter.

After messing up for the sixth time and a headache brewing behind his eyelids, he decided that he was going to step out and get some air.

“Where are ‘ou going?” Lafayette asked, looking up from their letter.

“I’m just going for a short walk; I’ll be back before long.” He told his French friend. The cool November air felt good on his skin, it made him feel slightly less foggy. Alexander walked until he was almost at the river. It was then that his vision had started to double and blur, so he figured it be best that he walked back to camp.

He was almost a mile away when his eyes rolled back into his head and the ground rushed up to meet him.

***************** 

John Laurens was getting nervous. He’d been looking for his tent mate, Alexander, for nearly an hour and still had yet to find him. He’d searched the mess hall, the medics station and even asked General Washington if he had seen him. Washington told him that he’d last seen him with Lafayette, and to check back with him if he hadn’t found Alexander within the hour.

John walked to Lafayette’s tent, but Alexander wasn’t there.

“Is something wrong?” Lafayette asked.

“Have you seen Alexander?”

“He said that he was going for a walk, but that was a few hours ago. Is he not back yet?”

John shook his head. “Get your horse, we have to go look for him.”

The two of them saddled up and headed off towards the river. John knew that Alexander liked to take walks there after he’d had a stressful day. John had accompanied him on more than one occasion, so he knew the path that he favored. John and Lafayette were a mile outside of camp when they spotted a person in a familiar blue jacket lying on the ground.

“Oh my god, Alexander.” John gasped, as he scrambled to get off his horse. He dropped to his knees once he reached him, then rolled Alexander onto his back. He looked as pale as a ghost and his whole body was shaking like mad. “Jesus, he’s burning up. Lafayette, go back to camp and inform the medic. I’ll take him back on my horse.”

Lafayette nodded, then dashed off towards the direction of camp. Carefully, John maneuvered Alexander onto his horse, then wrapped the reins around him once as to make sure he would not fall. With one arm cradling a still unconscious Alexander to his chest, John began to make his way back to camp. He went slower than he usually did; by the time he made it back to camp, the sun was starting to set.

As soon as they arrived, a pair of medics were there with a stretcher, ready to take Alexander to the Medics station. John follows them, never once taking his eyes off his tent mate. He barely makes it inside before someone was calling after him. He whirls around to see Washington rushing towards him.

“What is going on? What’s happened?” he demands.

“It’s Ale- uh Hamilton, sir. It seems as though he has fallen ill. Lafayette and myself found him out in the woods, he was unconscious and his skin is hot to the touch.”

“Sounds to me like a fever,” Washington says, John nods in agreement. “Well, we better get in there and see what is going on with Mr. Hamilton.”

John follows him into the medics’ station, then rushes over to where Alexander is. Since arriving, he’s been covered in blankets and there are wet cloths covering his neck and forehead. He’s still as pale as he was when they first found him, and that makes John even more nervous than he already was.

“His fever is incredibly high, sir.” The doctor said. “He has started to regain consciousness, but is also showing signs of delirium. There’s not much that we can do other than keep him cool to try and bring his fever down. It’s best that someone stay with him, in case something was to go wrong.”

“I’ll stay with him.” John says too quickly. Both the Doctor and Washington look at him strangely. “Would it not make sense for me to stay with him? I am his tent mate.”

_And his lover._ John thinks to himself. He and Alexander had been in relations with each other since shortly after the war had started. Both of them knew what would happen if anyone was to find out about the two of them; they would be hung for sodomy. They were always very careful with how they acted around each other. Only expressing love when they were alone in the woods, or at night in the safety of their tent. No one knew about it, and they planned to keep it that way.

 “That sounds most pleasing.” Washington agreed. “Please take Mr. Hamilton back to his sleeping quarters, he’ll be more comfortable there. You’ll be able to care for him there, won’t you Mr. Laurens?”

“Yes sir, I shall.” John responds. He walks back to his tent, his heart racing with nerves. He wants nothing more than for Alexander to get better. He fears what should happen if his condition should worsen. He is not given much time to dwell on it before a couple of medics and Washington are coming into his tent, settling Alexander into his bed.

“If anything, anything _at all_ , changes with Hamilton’s health, you shall come and find me immediately. Understood?” The general tells him.

“Yes sir.” John says then watches as Washington escorts the medics out of the tent.

He turns back to Alexander, taking in his pale skin and hunger pang frame. John picks up his hand and lays a gentle kiss across his knuckles.

“Alex, my love.” He whispers against his hand. “What have you gotten yourself into?”      

It’s a few hours before he begins to regain consciousness. When he does, his eyes are glassy and he’s saying things that John doesn’t understand. Things that he’s sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. For the most part, Alexander keeps his eyes shut tight, a line of sweat breaking out across his brow as he grips the bedsheets in his fist.

“Mother…” Alexander whimpers. “I’m sorry, mother, m’sorry.”

“Why, Alexander, why are you sorry?”

“C-Couldn’t save her. Too s-sick.” He says through a shiver. John pulls his blanket up higher and tucks it around his shoulder. Unable to resist himself, he runs his hand over the warm skin of his lover’s throat. When he relaxes under the touch, John breathes a sigh of relief. It makes him feel like he is helping opposed to hurting.

He no more pulls his hand away from Alexander than does Washington come into their tent. John stands quickly, and the general holds up a hand.

“No need, son. I have only come to see how our Hamilton is doing. Has he regained consciousness at all?”

“Yes, but only for a moment. He was hardly aware of his surroundings, sir. I’m not certain that he knew where he was.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Mr. Laurens, if you would, continue to give him fluids and keep him cool. It is best that we attempt to keep his fever down. I wish there was more that we could do for him, but as you know, we’ve been short on supplies for quite some time.”

John nods. “Sir, may I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

“Do you know anything of Hamilton’s family? Or his mother?”

“As far as I know, he has none. Why do you ask?”

“When he was conscious, he was saying quite odd things, he was asking for his mother.”

“That’s displeasing to hear,” Washington tells him, shaking his head. “Has he ever spoken of her before?”

“Once. He had mentioned that it was his mother’s birthday, but he seemed saddened at the thought of it.”

The General nodded, no emotion on his face. “To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. I’ll come by again later to see how he’s doing, but please, have Lafayette keep me informed.”

“Yes sir.”

 He leaves, and John turns back to the sick man. He watches his chest rise and fall, his breath stuttering every once in a while. Feeling tired, he couldn’t help but to lean forward and rest his head near Alexanders hip. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.   

When he woke up later, he could hear the sound of thunder off in the distance. Immediately, he noticed that Alexander’s bed was empty. John shot up, panicked that something horrid had happened while he was sleeping. He had to find Alexander, fast. He ran out of his tent, and straight into General Washington’s chest.

“Whoa, Whoa slow down Laurens. Is everything alright?” he asked, holding him at arm’s length.

“Hamilton, sir. Have you seen him? I awoke and he wasn’t-.”

“Relax, son. Alex is fine, I had him taken back to the medic station so that you may get some proper sleep. Go see him, they said that he’s been asking for you while he was conscious.” 

John all but runs to the medic station, lightning striking over his head as he reaches the entrance. The thunder booms when his eyes finally find Alexander. He’s in the corner furthest away from the door, a nurse standing over him. When John approaches, she walks away, leaving the two men alone.

Alexander’s eyes are open, but glassy just like they were before. He’s trembling under the blanket, mumbling strange words to himself.

“Out. Have to get out.”   

“Alexander? Are you okay?” John says carefully.

“Storm. Must get out of the storm.” Thunder booms above their heads and Alexander flinches harshly, curling in on himself. John remembers him once telling a story about how there had been a hurricane on the island where he grew up. It wiped out the entire city, he must think that he’s back there again.   

John sits on the edge of the bed, being mindful not to touch his lover just yet. He looks around, finding no one, he begins speaking to Alexander in a tone that he knows will calm him down.

“Alex. Sweetheart, it’s John. You’re safe, at Valley Forge, you’re not in St. Croix. You’re here with me, you’re okay. Come back to me, please. Everything is alright, you’re alright, I promise you.” He lays a gentle hand on Alexander’s head and strokes his sweaty hair. He breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn’t flinch away from the touch. He repeats the action, doing it until Alexander has stopped shaking and is breathing like he should. He is quiet again, and John relaxes, hoping that the sick man will awake soon.

About ten minutes later, the rain finally passes, and Alexander rolls over and looks up at John.

“Jack?”

“The one and only.” He says, his hand resting on his cheek. “You scared me, Hamilton. You should have told someone that you were ill.”

“I am quite sorry. I did not want to worry you.”

“I am afraid that it is too late for that. You have worried myself _and_ General Washington.” He touches his hand to Alexander’s forehead. “I suppose that I should let him know that your fever has broken.”  

“Wait,” he said. “Did anything happen? While I was ill, did anything happen?”

John doesn’t respond immediately. He could tell Alexander about what he said while he was sleeping. He could tell him that he knows now what happened to his mother. He could tell him how he had hallucinated during the storm, was convinced that he was back in Nevis again. John could tell him all kinds of things.

“No,” he lies. “Nothing happened. Stay here, I’m going to go find General Washington.” As he leaves, he thinks to himself:

_Nobody needs to know._

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those stories that took longer than it should for me to finish. If I forgot to tag anything, please tell me. Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought of it. I hope you're having a great day!


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